


Seriously Considering Magistricide

by WritLarge



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Human AU, Kid Fic, Light Angst, M/M, Mostly Fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-25
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-01-04 02:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12159660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritLarge/pseuds/WritLarge
Summary: Jack's suddenly the guardian of his pre-teen cousin Cupcake and that was a big deal, but it would be a hell of a lot easier if:a) her sixth-grade teacher wasn't such a fucking prick, andb) the asshole that he'd run into at the mandatory monthly parent meetings/lectures wasn't so frustratingly hot





	1. September

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rin0rourke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rin0rourke/gifts).



> Long, long ago there was a tumblr post with parent AUs that Rin and I talked about filling. Well this has been sitting in my drafts forever about 60% complete and it's about damn time I finished it. So let's get started.
> 
> The original prompt was something about snarking at/with each other at parent-teacher meetings.

“You sure you're in the right place?” asked a tall well-built man with more stubble than a typical five-o-clock shadow allowed for. Jack took in the poster covered walls, the smell of sand, glue, and industrial cleaning fluid permeating the air and concluded that yes, this was, in fact, an elementary school.

“It's meet the teacher night? I'm looking for Mr.-” Jack squinted down at the letter in his hand, “Punxsutawney?”

What the hell kind of name was that anyway? Couldn't he go by Mr. P. or something? 

“It's just,” the darker skinned man waved a hand at him, the smooth lines of his tattoos showing through the fabric of the white shirt he wore, “you hardly look old enough to be having a sprog, let alone a sixth grader.”

“I'm twenty-three!” Jack was fuming internally but he still winced when the exclamation came out louder than he'd intended. Yeah, he was young and kind of baby-faced, but he wasn't taking any shit from older know-it-all parents.

“Easy on, mate,” the man said as Jack moved to push past him. “No need to throw a wobbly.”

“What language are you speaking anyway, because it sure as hell doesn't sound like English,” Jack tried not to stare at the man's arms. Why did the judgy jerk have to be hot?

“You must mean American because my English is just fine, thank you,” Gorgeous Asshole grinned, lips quirking up reveal dimples. God, even the way his skin creased around his vivid green eyes was…

Annoying. It was annoying, and definitely not hot. At all.

Jack scowled and stalked into the classroom. What did it matter? The guy probably had a gorgeous wife and cute kids and a life completely free of the angst and bullshit Jack got to deal with every day. G.A. followed Jack inside and sat just behind him near the back corner. Guess neither of them wanted to be front and centre.

The room itself was painted an odd light brown colour and the desks were as dented and scratched up as could be expected, though they'd all been shoved to the side to line up the kid-sized plastic chairs they sat on. Aside from that, the room was zealously organized. Squares of paper were carefully pinned to the walls in a symmetrical fashion, rules clearly posted in large block letters. Everything was perfectly aligned. Cupcake's very particular list of “Classroom Necessities”, with paragraphs detailing what was and wasn’t unacceptable, fit the rigid theme perfectly. 

Jack had been hoping that the new school year would give Cupcake some structure and friends. Make things easier for her. Unfortunately, that didn't seem to be working out. He'd gotten a passive-aggressive note about her social skills already, even though Jack knew the teacher had been informed about their situation and should be cutting her some slack. Cupcake had missed the last month of fifth grade after her parents had been killed in a car crash. Jack, her equally orphaned cousin, had been the only family around willing and able to step up, and boy had he needed to do a hell of a lot of fast talking to manage it. Nick and his wife Ana had been supportive, renting him a basement apartment in a better neighbourhood than he could've afforded on his own. They'd even offered to take Cupcake themselves, but his cousin had been grieving and angry and had only wanted Jack. Jack had been equally determined.

It was only sinking in now, standing inside the school and being expected to competently parent, just how completely and utterly out of his depth he was. Fuck.

Other parents filtered in and filled up the seats, nearly all in coupled pairs. They all looked the same, well dressed and professional, typical for the area which was mostly middle to upper-middle class. Jack stuck out not only for his youth but his more casual dress too. G.A. didn't exactly fit the theme either if he had as many tattoos as Jack suspected, though the white button-down masked a lot and he was wearing pants like every other man in the room. Jack wore his usual hoodie and slightly frayed jeans. It hadn't occurred to him to wear anything else and now he looked like a kid who'd snuck over to sit at the adult table. Jack cursed himself for screwing up his first impression.

Someone cleared their throat loudly, cutting through the low murmur of conversation.

The teacher who stepped up to shush the parents had wiry slicked back hair and held his nose high, tapping his pen against a clipboard. He looked like someone who had stepped in dog shit and was pretending not to notice the smell. Not exactly the warmly supportive model Jack had been hoping Cupcake would get as a teacher.

Mr. Puxa-whatsit explained his outline and goals for the year in a monotone voice that did nothing to help Jack stay focused for the forty minutes that he droned on. And on. Everything had been in the information packet sent home the first week - did the guy just like hearing his own voice?

“So with all that in mind, I'll be holding regular evenings for parents. I like to be very involved in tracking the development of my students over the year.” A few of the front row parents nodded in agreement while others sighed, likely cursing the promise of more time spent in uncomfortable chairs at boring meetings.

“Once a month at least. Though some students,” the teacher's eyes panned over towards where Jack sat, “may require more time than others.”

“Fuck,” Jack cursed under his breath.

“Too right, mate,” G.A. chimed in behind him.

“I do hope you will all make time for these crucial information exchanges. I would hate to see your children disadvantaged by their parent's lack of priorities.” And at that, Mr. Pain-in-the-ass began handing out copies of a meeting schedule.

Well, now he had a better idea of why Cupcake disliked her teacher so much. Jack slumped as parents rose and began chatting. No one spoke to him, though they did eye him curiously. The letter in his pocket had asked him to stay and chat about Cupcake's “problem areas”. Mourning her parents was her fucking “problem area”, along with having to switch schools while puberty decided to explode all over her life because, hey, why not get all the pre-adolescent trauma out in one go, right? Buying pads for a crying, angry-at-the-world eleven-year-old had been the most terrifying experience of his life. Why did they need a whole aisle of options? And what the hell were wings for? Jack had thrown himself on Ana's mercy and begged for help.

What a mess. He'd allowed himself a single good cry over it one night when Cupcake had been soundly asleep. Jack knew first hand how she felt, his empathy vicious in its intensity. He'd been seventeen when he'd lost his parents and little sister on the same stretch of bad highway that had claimed his aunt and uncle. It was almost enough to make Jack think their family was cursed, but that area was known for its high accident rates. They'd promised construction on it for years. The work had finally begun this summer, two weeks too late for Cupcake's parents.

“Waiting on the stuffed shirt?” Jack opened his eyes to see G.A. leaning forward on the chair next to him. He nodded. “Jamie doesn't like him much. Can't say as I disagree.”

Cupcake hated the man and Jack was about to say so when the fucker silently materialized a foot away like a goddamned vampire.

“Mr. Frost. Shall we talk?” The teacher looked at him pointedly and Jack scrambled to his feet. Condescending prick.

The conversation that followed was only a success in that Jack managed to keep himself from a) swearing and b) assaulting the man with his own clipboard. He'd had to walk around the block three times and curse out a mailbox before he was calm enough to go in and get Cupcake from Nick and Ana.

This year was going to suck.


	2. October

Life moved on, slowly and painfully. It might have been easier if they hadn't moved, but there weren’t any affordable options in the small town where Cupcake's house had been. Living one town over was better. At least there was an actual job market. Jack needed work, because they couldn't live on insurance money forever, and he kept poring over postings in the hope that something he was qualified for would appear.

At least he'd been able to get her into hockey. Cupcake hadn't wanted to give that up. She was a skilled player too, which was probably why they'd allowed her to register so late, and Jack was glad she had something to be proud of. He never complained about practices or gear. It was money well spent as far as he was concerned, and the other parents just assumed he was her brother and that Nick was their father. It saved them a lot of painful explaining. The older man often gave them a ride, being a hockey lover himself, and happily played along.

This month's meeting conflicted with a practice. Thankfully, Nick had offered to take Cupcake himself. He and Ana had five daughters of their own, all grown and out of the house, and had known Cupcake for years as a result of being friends with both their sets of parents. It was easy for them to slide into a parental role with her, which Jack was both grateful for and oddly put out by. When Nick offered him a ride as well, Jack opted to walk to the school, turning down a potential 'bonding' opportunity and giving himself time to think. He wasn't looking forward to enduring more disdain and disapproval regarding his parenting abilities from Mr P, but it seemed inevitable. 

Mr. P… The teacher really should have gone with that, even with the unfortunate toilet humour potential. He was pretty sure the kids had made worse nicknames to use outside class rather than twist their tongues around Punxsutawney. Cupcake's current moniker for her teacher had emerged between a parent-child-teacher meeting, the second Jack had been summoned to this month, and another hockey practice.

“Puck-in-the-face-y,” he muttered under his breath and heard a snort come from his right. G.A. a.k.a. 'Jamie's Dad', not that Cupcake would talk about her classmates enough for him to know who Jamie was. “Uh- hey.”

G.A. smiled, “Still not a fan, eh?”

“Not really.” 

They had to pause at the corner while cars passed by. Jack took a good look at the man this time. Still gorgeous and taller than Jack was by at least half a foot. Probably some kind of mixed ethnicity too with skin that colour. He had lush green eyes, lean muscle everywhere, and tattoos that Jack couldn't see properly through his shirt, which only made his imagination run wild. Assholes shouldn't be allowed to be both cool and hot. 

“Jamie just says Mr. Punk. Think I like yours better.” The two of them crossed and continued, walking the last block side by side. “You play hockey, then?”

“Me? No, Cupcake’s in a league. You?”

“Nah. Played a bit of Rugby in my youth. I’d rather tackle some bloke into the mud than swing a stick around while freezing to death.”

Anyone else and Jack would have ribbed them for being such a wuss about the cold, but the idea of being tackled by the man and pressed down into the-

No, no, no, Jack mentally facepalmed. Bad thoughts. Bad. G.A. was straight and Jack did not want to stir up any homophobic crap for Cupcake to have to deal with. Damn, but it was hard not to notice the Gorgeous part of Gorgeous Asshole, though. 

Jack was kind of a disaster when it came to relationships and he hadn’t gotten laid in… longer than he liked to think about. He’d hadn’t taken anything seriously in college, mostly happy indulging in shallow relationships, having no idea how to really be any other way. Then he’d fallen hard for Sam and for two years they’d been inseparable. Jack had been a year ahead, though. So, living in the same student house and not wanting to be apart, he’d turned down a couple job opportunities so that they could stay together. He'd thought things were serious and that Sam had been The One. Sam hadn’t felt the same way. He’d become increasingly distant the closer to graduation he’d gotten, soothing Jack’s concerns by blaming his workload and making vague comments about how things would be different when exams were over. In retrospect, it had all been foreshadowing for their break up. Sam had fucked off to Italy to take his dream job, shattering any expectations of moving in together and settling down, and had left Jack feeling like a fool for being surprised. 

Then Cupcake's family had shattered. He’d dropped everything to move back to his home state and hadn’t had time to indulge in self-pity or even think about a rebound fling. Not that flings were an option now that he was parenting a grieving pre-teen. Ogling the parents of her potential friends was an especially terrible idea too. 

“Did you read the Halloween guidelines letter?” Jack asked, pulling his thoughts into more neutral territory. The letter was awful. They weren't even school guidelines. Only Grade 6 had to suffer this bullshit.

“Yeah,” the man grimaced. “Bit harsh.”

“I think he's allergic to fun. He went off on Cupcake about the stickers on her binder too.” The sparkly butterfly and unicorn ones that she'd gotten from Ana.

“Jamie complained about being called out for doodling – “art stays in art class”, apparently,” G.A. scowled. Jack wondered if he was an artist himself, his statement was that derisive. He’d google him if he had any idea what G.A.'s actual name was.

“Mr. Frost? Mr. Bunnymund? If we could all get settled?” Mr. Puck-in-the-face-y called them inside snidely. Well, there was a last name at least.

They took the same seats as before, the room still way too orderly for an elementary school classroom. There were fewer parents, but that was likely due to the couples nominating one eager/unlucky partner as a family representative. After the droning began, G.A. leaned forward.

“What kind of name is Cupcake then? Isn't she a bit old for cutesy nicknames?”

“She likes it,” he shrugged.

“Does she?” The question rankled. Jack knew what Cupcake wanted. He wasn't going to call her by a name she didn't like. She'd probably punch him if he did and the girl could leave a hell of a bruise.

“Yeah. She does. Why do you care?” Jack glared sideways at him.

“Jamie says the other kids tease her,” G.A. said, ignoring Jack's ire. “Mr. Puck-in-the-face is apparently anti-girly.”

“What?” Teasing? Cupcake hadn't mentioned anything about that. 

“He doesn't like pink or fluffy unicorns or what have you. Cupcake might want to tone it down.” The teacher coughed loudly and threw a nasty look their way. Jack slumped in his seat. Was she really being teased? That sucked. Why hadn't she said anything about it in their meetings or even just to him when they were alone? Didn't Cupcake trust him? And how come G.A. knew all about it when Jack was completely oblivious?

“What the fuck do you know about little girls anyway?” he huffed quietly. 

“I've got one of my own, ya dill. I'm not saying he's right, just that maybe she'll want to avoid riling him up, is all.” Dill? What the hell did that mean? 

G.A. settled back into his seat and Jack resolutely ignored him for the rest of the meeting. 

The wordy, jargon-filled explanation of the first month of school crawled by, only outdone by the following half an hour of Mr. Please-get a-sense-of-humour waxing poetic about his educational philosophies. Jack spent a lot of the time examining the teacher's desk. It was disturbingly exact, freshly sharpened yellow pencils lined up by size, their erasers untouched. A pristine looking colour-coded calendar sat beneath a clear desk protector, and neatly bundled computer cords with trimmed zip ties connected the small screen perched in one corner to the tower below. If it had been an office, Jack would have been impressed, but this was a classroom for children and the way the teacher's strict order extended to belittling the kids over stickers was infuriating. Plus, he'd just started noticing the tiny labels printed with the warning DO NOT TOUCH that littered the room. 

Holy crap they were everywhere.

“Does he label everything?” Jack asked quietly without thinking. Clearly, G.A. was bored too because he paid more attention to Jack's mutterings than the teacher's lecture.

“What la- crikey,” G.A. paused for a long moment. “I think he's got the wrong job.” 

Jack tried not to engage, but when he imagined day after day of trying to keep nearly two dozen children from making any kind of mess, he couldn't help himself.

“How has he not had a coronary yet?” 

“Gotta have a heart first, I suppose.” Jack coughed loudly to disguise his surprised laughter. G.A. grinned, unrepentant. 

“Well, I think that covers everything. If any of you have questions or require further clarification, you can make an appointment to meet with me using the email on the meeting schedule.” Freedom!

They made their escape in short order, ducking out from the back before the mass exodus, the night air a cool relief from the stuffy classroom, though not cold enough for Jack to wear a jacket yet. Maybe if he’d been trying to look more “adult”, but he’d figured out quick that no amount of dressing up would make a difference now.

“Well, that was a corker of a meeting, wasn't it?” G.A. said. Jack had no idea what corker meant, but he knew sarcasm when he heard it. “See you next month?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” though Jack was reasonably certain he'd be dragged in again for something before then. He was going to try not to think about it too much. 

“Ta.” G.A. walked away into the night and Jack watched him go, admiring the fit of his khakis more than he really should have. Damn. He was a little grumpy, but he had a sense of humour. Quashing his libido would have been easier if Jack could have kept focused on the assholery and ignored the fact that the guy was a concerned dad whose kid trusted him enough to spill the details of his school day.

Jack sighed and headed home himself. He needed to talk to Cupcake.

And google the fuck out of “Mr. Bunnymund”.


	3. November

Halloween was supposed to be fun, goddammit!

The holiday had been nothing but pain and humiliation for Cupcake, who wasn’t a slim or dainty girl. She loved feminine things though, leaning towards dresses in pastel colours, her room an explosion of ponies, unicorns, lace, and glitter. Unfortunately, her style often went unappreciated. It would have fit most people's mental expectations if she'd been a tomboy, but she wasn't. Even her hockey skates had pink laces.

Her Halloween outfit, which had fit the provided guidelines that Jack had read until he'd had them memorized, was a Fairy costume. She’d worn a glittery pink dress that covered her arms with matching leggings and removable wings that she’d been required to hang up with her jacket. Cupcake's hair had been tucked back beneath a crown of fake pink and purple flowers, and she’d had a little dusting of glitter on her skin to match her dress thanks to Ana’s make up expertise. All in all, it had looked pretty awesome to Jack.

Not everyone had agreed. Honestly, Jack was sure Cupcake could have handled a couple of classmates being mean. She had low expectations for the kids at her new school. It frustrated Jack to no end because he had no idea how to manage middle school drama, but Cupcake persevered. 

No, what had really undone her, and royally pissed him off on her behalf, was that her teacher hadn't stopped it. Hadn't calmed them. Hadn’t done fucking anything. Instead, Mr. lucky not to be Punched-In-The-Face had joined in. Oh not like the kids did, and nothing he couldn’t weasel out of by proclaiming that his words had been taken the wrong way, but he'd made several offhand comments about knowing one's limitations and something else about physics and flying and weight that Cupcake had sobbed out, half devastated half furious. 

Jack had been able to fill in the blanks.

No way had he been willing to let that slide and he’d not only torn a strip off her teacher, he'd formally complained to the school. The official meeting had been exhausting and had mostly come down to Cupcake getting to talk to a school counsellor and her teacher reassuring the vice-principal that he had the highest standards for his classroom and would “continue to be unflappably professional”. Unflappably. Yeah. End result? Not much change, except now any one-on-one meeting they had was to be held in the Office and supervised by an administrator because Jack had unreasonably shouted at the man who had humiliated his kid.

Fucking Punxsutawney. The whole thing had put Jack in a horrible mood for the past couple weeks and he’d messed up a coffee date by talking about little else. The guy had been nice in a fairly generic way, but still in college and not at all prepared to hear about Jack's parenting related woes. Jack doubted he'd hear from him again. It was probably for the best. Still, it would have been nice to have someone to share his rage and concern with.

Jack had seriously considered blowing off the scheduled parent meeting, but he had to go, didn’t he? Mr. P thought he was an incompetent guardian and Jack wasn’t going to be bullied into proving him right. He yanked his coat off its hook.

“It’s pointless meeting time,” he huffed to himself.

“You’re going?” Cupcake looked up from where she sat at the table, drawing.

“Yeah. Nick and Ana are upstairs if you need anything.” Jack wasn’t worried. Cupcake was nearly old enough to be a babysitter herself. She could handle an hour or so on her own. “You know when I’ll be back, if I don’t get arrested for stabbing your teacher with a pencil or something.” 

Cupcake stared at her hands, “I’m sorry school is such a mess.”

What? “No, Cupcake, I didn’t-”

“I’ll try harder, so you don’t have to talk to him so much.”

“It’s not your fault,” he began, but she was already snatching up her sketchbook and fleeing into her room, leaving Jack at the door with his mouth hanging open.

Fucking fuck, goddammit! Jack thrust a hand into his hair. Then his phone went off.

Shit. He was going to be late.

Jack sprinted to the damn monthly “lecture” and sat rigidly in his usual seat, staring with cold fury through the completely useless information dump. Did the arrogant jerk not realize how useless his yapping was? Why the fuck was he even here? He should be talking to Cupcake, or sitting there like a moron while she didn’t talk to him which was more likely. He needed to learn to shut the fuck up about his own problems in front of her. Cupcake shouldn’t be worrying about him.

It wasn't until he was out in the hall afterwards, another hour of his life wasted, that Jack finally unclenched and noticed G.A watching him warily.

Or rather Mr. E. Aster Bunnymund, according to Google. Bunnymund had not been a common surname and finding his professional page had been easy. Anything personal though, that had all been locked down tight.

Tonight G.A. was wearing a green t-shirt under his jacket, tattoos well hidden, jeans snug on his hips where he was leaning against the wall, arms crossed. Had he been waiting for him? 

“Hey,” Jack tried awkwardly, not wanting to offend the man who had been right about the teasing before. 

“You know,” Bunnymund raised an eyebrow, “if you'd stared at him any harder, he'd have frozen solid. Would have done us all a favour.”

“I'll try harder next time,” Jack couldn't help but smile a little. If only. G.A. pushed off the wall and walked with Jack towards the exit.

“Cupcake all right, then?”

“Yeah.” Did everyone know what had happened? He hadn’t noticed anything different, but his thoughts had been elsewhere. The other parents mostly ignored him anyway. He should get back and see how Cupcake was doing. “I should get going.”

“Yeah. Got to pick up the kids soon too,” G.A. ran a ringless hand through his greying hair. “Promised the sitter I wouldn't be late tonight.” 

“You're not married?” Jack blurted out like a moron. 

“Not anymore,” the man shook his head, pushing open the door and holding it for Jack. “But if we're asking personal questions, your name is different than Cupcake's?”

“Uh, yeah. Jack Frost,” he paused on the sidewalk and belatedly introduced himself, hoping to sound less like an idiot. “Cupcake is an Overland. Her dad was my mom’s brother.”

“Aster Bunnymund,” he gave Jack a quick handshake. “So you’re-?”

“I'm her legal Guardian now. Her parents died earlier this year.” Aster's face crumpled with sympathy and Jack's mood plummeted again. Fuck. He really didn't want to have this conversation right now. Not after the past week and a half of bullshit. “Sorry, I have to go.”

Jack strode away. He could already feel his thoughts whipping into frustrated snarls. It was going to be a bad night. Maybe if something had gone right in the past month...

A couple blocks away it hits him. Crap. He shouldn't have been so rude, storming off like a jerk. Aster had only been making conversation, sympathizing like any decent person would. Jack had been the one being surly.

He had, in fact, researched Aster online. Not in a creepy way. He was just… curious. Turned out E. Aster Bunnymund was an artist like he'd thought, and a good one too as far as Jack could tell. There was a professional website with lists of showings and an online gallery filled pieces that ranged from lush to whimsical. Links to several illustrated picture books showed up on Amazon too. Jack was impressed. 

The only personal information he could find, however, was a newsletter thanking him for coaching what had to be Jamie's soccer league. There were pictures and scraps of information here and there from Aster's time at La Trobe University, but that was tame stuff from years ago. And he wasn't married anymore, so what? He had been once and Jack reminded himself how pathetic pining for straight men was. He’d had his fill of that sort of angst in high school. Never again. Not even with well-meaning, gorgeous, not-really-assholes. 

Jack would get his shit together by next month's meeting. Though if he got called into another condescending parent-teacher conference, he might end up shoving Mr. Prig-a-whatsit in front of a bus first.


	4. December

DECEMBER

Jack loved winter, but he hadn't really celebrated the holidays since his parents had passed, despite his aunt and uncle's urging. Nothing could have prepared him for the St. North’s idea of the holidays, however. Ana had laughed at Jack's bewilderment when he’d discovered what a big deal Christmas was in their household. Bigger than the ridiculously massive feast that Thanksgiving had been, even. Jack was sure he'd gained at least five pounds over that weekend.

On December first, the house had been transformed into an explosion of red, green, and gold. Nick had strung what seemed like miles of twinkling lights around the property and had a shockingly large collection of carols on rotation. The girls had crowded into the kitchen, Christmas cookies littering every surface in preparation, both fridges stuffed to the gills with holiday trimmings. Then the Schedule had been unveiled, a calendar posted on the wall that had made Jack’s head hurt to look at. Ana juggled a ridiculous number of holiday events, from regular parties to charity gatherings and hamper collections, and Nick volunteered as a Santa, looking all too real with his natural beard and jolly belly. Jack had narrowly escaped elf duty. 

Somewhere in the middle of wrapping gifts to donate, Jack had offhandedly mentioned Aster and Jamie to Ana. She’d perked up immediately. They’d been acquainted for some time and Ana’s gossip was far more helpful than the internet. Apparently, Aster and Clara had gotten amicably divorced before Sophie had been born, Sophie being the daughter he'd told Jack about in October before calling him an idiot (Jack had looked up Aussie slang – dill was not a reference to the herb). Ana hadn't known the details, it had been more than three years ago, but they had a mutual close friend named Sandy who Jack subsequently met at a dinner party. As a result, he now knew that Aster's ex-wife travelled a lot, which was why the kids lived full-time with their dad, and that Sandy was their doting Godfather/Sitter. He’d seemed like a nice guy, though his partner Koz was kind of creepy. Ana had assured him that Koz wasn't so bad once you got to know him, while Nick had shaken his head in disagreement behind her. Koz had smirked knowingly at him while they'd been discussing Aster and Jack had only just kept himself from accidentally-on-purpose spilling a drink on the smug bastard. 

All right, so maybe his thoughts lingered on Aster more than they should, but Jack was only being curious. Besides, he was actually attempting to get back out there and date. Sort of. Sifting through online possibilities had been depressing, he wasn't interested in a hook up, and he’d turned down Ana’s offer to try and set him up because that might result in her asking Sandy and he was a little wary of who Sandy (re: Koz) might suggest.

Jack had always enjoyed clubbing on the other hand, so he’d given that a try. Once he’d gotten there, however, he’d just felt awkward. Things he might have tried once were off limits now. Jack hadn't even been comfortable having more than one drink. What if something had happened? What if Cupcake had needed him? If Jack was too drunk or high or got arrested? It wasn't worth the risk. So he had hit the dance floor, relaxing enough to enjoy the attention of a few men, and slipped away to walk home when the crowd had begun to thin.

Then, to everyone's delight, a thick snowfall had touched down a week before the holiday break. Jack thought maybe they'd catch a break themselves and not have a Parent meeting until the New Year, but the schedule remained firm and Mr. P's meeting would be tomorrow night. Oh well. He hadn't been called in for a private parent-teacher meeting that month, so that was a plus anyway.

An hour later he was shaking his head at how unreasonably optimistic he'd been.

A middle of the day phone call had Jack jogging up the stairs and into the school, heading for the office. Instead of being faced down by the waiting vice-principal or school counsellor, the area was packed with children and parents. Chairs had been lined up in the hall and were filled with crying or defiant looking students. 

Must have been one hell of a snowball fight.

“You too, eh?” Jack turned, recognizing the accent behind him. Aster stood in the hall with a tiny blonde girl on his shoulders.

“I love snow!” cried the girl enthusiastically, nearly toppling from her perch.

“Whoa there, Sophie,” Aster held her tight through the fluffy snowsuit that she wore. “Talk to anyone yet?”

“Nope, but it must have been epic,” Jack grinned and wondered if Mr. Potential-coronary had had palpitations over the whole thing. Aster surveyed the chaos.

“It is quite the crowd.” 

“Dad!” A brown haired boy squeezed out of the office door and zipped over to Aster.

“Jamie’s in trouble!” Sophie giggled.

“Awww, c'mon. It was a just a snowball fight,” Jamie pleaded. “They're totally overreacting. No one got hurt or anything.”

“That is not the point,” an affronted looking Mr. Punk said, following Jamie to his father. “Snow throwing is banned on school property, never mind the absolute pandemonium that was created on the grounds this afternoon. Mr. Bunnymund, I expect that you'll be discussing the matter in detail with your son?”

The teacher handed over a letter to Aster and waited expectantly while he scanned the words.

“Suspended?” Aster snapped. “For snowballs?”

“Several students in the upper grades have been singled out as instigators. I'm sure by the new year, Jamie will have a better grasp on proper school behaviour.” Mr. P looked down his nose at the kid.

“But I'll miss the year end party!” Jamie was upset and Aster looked about ready to go off as well when they were interrupted.

“Mr Punxsutawney? Mr. Frost?” The school counsellor stood behind them with Cupcake, who had tear tracks drying on her cheeks and angry eyes. “I think Cupcake is ready to go home.”

Cupcake didn't say anything. She just stalked over to Jack pressed against his side.

“Mr. Frost-” the teacher began, pulling out another letter. Jack snatched it out of his hand before he could finish.

“Yeah, yeah. Suspended until January, right?” The teacher nodded curtly. “Fine.” 

After the kids had fetched their backpacks, Jack and Cupcake followed Aster and his children out the front of the school, dodging other harried looking parents. As soon as they reached the front walk Jamie went off again.

“It was a snowball fight! Oh my God! Cupcake, you tell him,” Jamie made a plea for help, but Cupcake stared resolutely at the ground. “This is so unfair!”

“Jamie-” Aster bent a little to better talk to Jamie and Sophie lunged forward.

“Pretty!” she made a grab for Cupcake's sparkly jewel encrusted headband.

“Ah, fu-” Aster tried to catch her, but the tiny girl had too much momentum and ended up being caught by Jack instead. “Sophie!”

“I got her,” he gasped, heart pounding. Damn. Sophie looked up at him with big eyes, her hair springing free now that her hat had fallen to the ground. “Hey.”

“Strewth. Thanks for the save, mate.” Aster rubbed a hand over his face, a little shaken. Sophie clung to Jack, her little fists grasping his coat as she twisted around to see Cupcake again, completely unfazed by her near plummet onto the sidewalk. Cupcake was warily watching the little girl in her raggedy tutu and pink flowery snow boots. 

“Pretty and sparkly,” she gazed up at Cupcake, who actually cracked a small smile. She lifted the hairband off her head and held it out for Sophie to see. The little girl clapped her hands and then carefully touched the gleaming plastic jewels and curled ribbons that hung from the band.

“Careful, Soph,” cautioned Aster. 

“It's okay,” Cupcake said and put the hairband on Sophie's head, restraining her wild hair. “She can have it. I'll make another one.”

“You made it?” Jamie said. “Cool.” 

Cupcake coloured a little at Jamie's exclamation and carefully tucked an escaping strand of Sophie's hair under the band. Aster raised an eyebrow at Jack who shrugged. 

“Say thank you, Sophie,” Aster prodded her, shaking the snow off her discarded hat.

“Thank you!” The cheery little girl hardly weighed anything as she bounced in Jack's arms. Aww, she was sweet. Cupcake had been a lot like this when she was little. Jack had been drafted into babysitting frequently before his family had passed, when he’d distanced himself and eventually chosen a college on the other side of the country. If he could go back and do it again… 

“Well, we better get home. Apparently, we need to talk.” Jamie wilted at his father's words. “And what have you done with your mittens, you imp?” Aster shoved the hat into his pocket and lifted Sophie from Jack’s arms.

“I don’t think she had them when I caught her.”

“Hrm. Probably tossed them on the way here.” Sophie grinned, unrepentant, and Aster sighed. She must go through a lot of mittens. “I'll see you tomorrow night.” 

Tomorrow?

“What?” Were they seriously still expected at the stupid meeting? Aster gestured at the letter Jack had dropped in the snow. He picked it up and, sure enough, the meeting day and time were bolded at the bottom. “Godd- err, fine. Yeah.”

Jack was seriously considering magistricide, because, yes, he’d lowered himself to googling how to off Cupcake’s teacher enough times that he’d learned the latin term for it. He could dream, right?

Sighing heavily, they said their goodbyes and headed off. Cupcake seemed to be in a bit better mood, though her hair kept falling into her eyes without the hairband. He wasn’t going to leave her with the wrong impression, however.

“Listen, I'm not going to give you shit for a snowball fight.”

“I know.” 

“But I am pretty disappointed.” 

“You are?” Cupcake stumbled and went still. 

“Yeah. Your teacher looked far too warm and dry. Didn't any of you land at least one?” Cupcake's worried expression dissolved into giggles. “Slacker. If you're off for the week, we’re going to teach you how to do this properly. Daily drills if necessary. Nobody escapes a Frost in a snowball fight. Got it?” He ruffled her hair.

“Yes, Jack,” she shooed him away, grinning.

He made his way to the monthly meeting the next night, early darkness setting in and street lights coming on. At least the wind had died down. None of the houses he passed approached the riot of colour the St. North home emitted, but a few were nice enough, and Jack slowed to look. There was one bungalow by the corner in blue and silver that was especially pretty.

“Pretty, isn't it?” Aster echoed his thoughts when he approached, admiring the house alongside him. He was wearing a parka, thick gloves, and a hat that covered his ears. “Lot of snow though.”

“I know. It’s great,” he said. Aster snorted at his enthusiasm. “You're a bit overdressed. It isn't that cold yet.”

“Says you. Sun’s gone down.”

“Wimp.” Aster bumped his shoulder into Jack's.

“Listen, Jamie's been telling me about Cupcake's troubles again-”

“Again?” 

“Yeah,” Aster grimaced. “Says she won't talk to the kids trying to make friends with her. He figures maybe she's kinda shy, after yesterday and everything, but she comes across as a little rude otherwise.”

“She's not-”

“I get it, all right?” Aster held up his hands. “It's hard. But it’s not doing her any favours and-”

“Oh sure. I'll just tell her to perk right up then, first Christmas without her parents? Paste on a happy face and work on being popular, because that's so fucking important!”

“That's not what I'm-”

“She's not your kid, Kangaroo!”

“Well, she's not technically yours either, is she?” 

“Fuck you!” Jack spat. “I'm all she's got, okay?”

“Then act like it,” Aster thrust a finger at Jack's chest. “You’re her guardian, that makes you a parent, not a friend. If she's not coming to you, you need to buck up and go to her. You can’t just hope it’s going to work itself out.”

Jack couldn’t find the words to respond, shoving Aster's hand away and stalking towards the school instead. Goddamn, infuriating, interfering… gah! Jack wanted to smash Aster’s face into the nearest snowbank, but maybe he was right. Fuck! Why was he so bad at this?

Cupcake complained a little about her teacher when she couldn’t take it anymore like on Halloween, but she wouldn't say much else. They had fun, with hockey and snowball fights, and they watched a few shows together. And it wasn't like he didn't ask about how her day went every night. It was just... Jack hated prodding Cupcake for more. It felt nosy and rude and he was crap at touchy-feely conversations. He did kind of avoid them. Being a sort-of-dad was hard and he’d never had time to process his own feelings about it because they hadn’t mattered. He just had to try harder, that was all.

Aster braved Jack's wrath by sitting next to him while he fumed. A few minutes into the meeting, he slid his phone over to Jack. 

_Know any good words that start with the letter X?_

Huh?

Aster flicked his fingers across the phone to reveal a list.

_Punxsutawney_

_P ompous_  
_U nsympathetic_  
_N eatfreak_  
_X_  
_S upercilious_  
_U ppity_  
_T edious_  
_A rrogant_  
_W indbag_  
_N_  
_E gotistical_  
_Y_

“Jamie's been sifting through the thesaurus for this one,” he explained in a low voice. 

_____ _

No shit. Jack’s ire faded and he grinned, adding 'Narcissistic' for the second N. Aster smiled back and the anger that had been in his chest shifting into another kind of warmth entirely.

_____ _

It was so unfair, how Aster kept ticking off boxes on Jack’s internal Ideal Boyfriend list despite being an occasional asshole. He was kind and honest, and his dry sense of humour... How was Jack supposed to stay mad at him? 

_____ _

Another hour later, they made their way out of the school into the cold night air. They walked the first block together without speaking, the snow muffling the noise of the night save for the sound of their footsteps, eventually pausing at the blue and white house where they'd argued earlier. Jack was at a loss. Was Aster waiting for him to apologize? Shit, maybe he should.

_____ _

“Listen,” Aster said, looking at the house, “we're having a get together on Friday for some of the kids that got suspended since they have to miss the school party. You think Cupcake might come?”

_____ _

“Oh.” A party? “Maybe? I'll talk to her.”

_____ _

“You do that,” Aster nodded. “You'd be welcome too.” Really?

_____ _

“Uh, thanks. I’ll let you know.” 

_____ _

“Great. Have a good night.”

_____ _

“You too.” Jack watched him go, a little stunned. Huh. A party. Jack would figure out a way to bring it up with Cupcake. Maybe they could both make some friends.

_____ _


	5. January

The holidays hadn’t been much fun for Jack. Aster’s party had been a no go. Jack had had to work. He’d landed a job as a ski instructor at the hill just outside of town. Not exactly what his degree was for, but it paid all right and gave him something to put on his resume.

Ana had taken Cupcake in his place. Missing out on seeing Aster’s home and learning more about the man had been disappointing, Jack could have properly met some of the other parents too, but keeping his job was more important. 

Aster’s words had rung in his head for days after the meeting, however. When Cupcake had been swept into the whirlwind of holiday preparations during her suspension, Jack had used the chance to squeeze in a quick meeting with the school counsellor without her noticing. Ms. Joyce had been surprisingly supportive and given some context about the snowball fight too. A few years previous, some students had taken to making snowballs with ice embedded and the little assholes had ruined it for everyone, resulting in the official school ban. Compromises had been attempted but nothing had come of it, mostly because of a few vocally anxious parents and some resistant faculty. 

What he’d really needed, however, was guidance on how to handle Cupcake. Jack hadn’t been sure what to expect, or if any of it would help, but Ms. Joyce provided him with a wealth of advice a thousand times more useful than Jack’s own experience with therapy had been. It was a bit sad how well versed she was in helping children deal with trauma and grief, but armed with her handouts and website recommendations, Jack felt a little less lost on the subject.

His gratitude for the information had swelled when the following holidays had turned into a roller coaster of emotions for the two of them. They had talked a lot. Jack’s improved ability to ask the right kind of questions and put aside his own discomfort helped, and opening up about how poorly he’d dealt with his own parent's death had seemed to give Cupcake permission to do the same. They’d waded through a lot of mutual misery, the melancholy of it broken up by the frequent bouts of holiday cheer Nick and Ana had dragged them into, and Jack had been fucking exhausted by the time Cupcake went back to school. 

Seeing her off in the morning, Jack pleaded with whatever power might be listening in the universe that the month would go smoothly. The calm only lasted until Wednesday when he got a call from the school. Shockingly, not for a meeting. 

“Mr. Frost?”

“Yeah,” he recognized the voice of Ms. Joyce on the line. “Is Cupcake okay?”

“She’s fine. I just wanted to inform you of an incident. It’s been handled here but I thought you’d want to know the details.” Jack was relieved that he wouldn’t have to face another one-on-one, but what had Cupcake gotten involved in now?

“Yeah, yes. I mean, what happened?”

“A confrontation in the schoolyard, mostly insults and yelling. Some of the older students were bullying a boy in Cupcake’s class. They tower over him and I’m sure it appeared quite threatening. Cupcake intervened, inserting herself between them, and a few other students stepped up with her. The teacher on duty noticed the situation and talked it out with them.”

“Oh.” Well good, he thought. If this was the sort of thing Cupcake was going to get in trouble for, Jack was fine with it. “But no suspension?”

“Oh no. If we suspended every child who got into an argument, we’d lose half the school. No, the older kids will be facing a more in-depth discussion about bullying. While it was fairly tame, the teachers will be watching them, to make sure it was a foolish one-off and not the beginning of an ongoing problem.”

Jack thanked her and ended the call, not quite sure what to think. Was this a good sign? Cupcake had never been overly aggressive or easy to provoke at hockey, despite the shocking amount of trash talk pre-teen girls were capable of. He’d have to ask how she was after school.

But Jack didn’t end up needed to ask any questions at all. When Cupcake arrived home, she fumed over the incident openly. Monty, a boy Jack had never met, had apparently been pushed around by a couple eighth graders. She and a few other kids had gone over to help. Since Cupcake was the tallest, she’d planted herself in between the two sides and the eighth graders had apparently reconsidered their chances. A teacher had taken notice and hurried over to break things up before it got too heated.

It turned out that Monty was in Jamie’s friend group and that he and Cupcake had met at the party. New names began cropping up in dinner time discussions after that, Monty and Jamie, Claude and Caleb. Mostly boys. It was a start and Jack was glad for it.

He was even looking forward to the meeting tonight. A little. He had a word suggestion from Cupcake of xenophobic for Jamie’s list. According to her, Mr. P made a point to needle both Ahmed-with-an-accent and Martina-with-a-lisp about pronunciation at every turn. Despite the complaints, which Jack made a point to pass along to Ms. Joyce, he hadn’t been dragged into another parent-teacher meeting since the rule about them being supervised had been put in place. 

He still had the urge to lash out and prank the uptight man. It would only make things worse, however. Maybe once Cupcake finished grade six…

Arriving early, a few of the other parents nodded at him. Huh. Jack had rarely been acknowledged at the meetings. 

“Hi,” one of the moms approached him. A tiny woman in a pantsuit. “I’m Hila, Monty’s mother. I met Ana and Cupcake at the holiday party.”

“Oh, right,” Jack shook her hand, wondering where this was going.

“I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know how glad I am that Monty’s made some decent friends here. His last school wasn’t very supportive.”

“I, yeah. This is Cupcake’s first year here too. The school has been...” Awful and amazing? Ms. Joyce had given him some hope. Maybe Mr. P was an exception? He couldn’t remember Aster complaining about any of Jamie’s previous teachers.

“Mmm, Mr. Punxsutawney isn’t ideal, I know. I’m never quite sure how much I hear from the boys is exaggerated, though.”

“Oh, he and I have talked a lot. You might be surprised.” He chatted a little about his and Cupcake’s experiences and Hila’s eyes went round behind her glasses.

“I hope you’re keeping track of all that.”

“Oh yeah. I’ve been passing along notes to the school counsellor. I’m going to write a hell of a year end letter too.”

“I should give you my number. I joined the PTA and we’re planning on launching a new anti-bullying plan. It really should address teacher behaviour as well as students-” she was cut off by a loud rapping from the front of the room.

“Please take your seats.” Hila returned to her seat and Jack went towards the back. No Aster yet.

He settled and thought about what Hila had said. Maybe there would be a legit way to handle this, especially if Cupcake wasn’t the only one being belittled. 

Aster was nowhere to be seen right up until Mr. Pretentiously-Punctual opened his mouth to speak and glared as Aster dashed in and threw himself down next to Jack.

“Well, now that we’re all here...” he began snidely, launching into his usual useless information dump. It wasn’t long before he was more interested in his new schedule than them.

“That was close,” Jack said, speaking lowly.

Aster grimaced but didn’t speak, slumping down with his arms crossed and brow furrowed. His phone was vibrating in his pocket. Jack could hear it going off, again and again, until it finally stopped. A minute later it started up again.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Aster yanked it out, grumbling low.

“You all right?” The phone face had lit up, revealing missed call notifications and then tight lines of text packed onto the screen. 

“People need to mind their own bloody business,” he snapped and then, glancing up at Jack’s shocked face, Aster backpedaled. “Not you, mate.”

“Mr. Frost? Mr. Bunnymund?” Mr. P peered at them, unimpressed.

“Sorry,” Aster shoved the phone back into his pocket, where it continued to go off.

There was no further chatting between them. Aster remained moody and silent, not even reacting when one of the parents pointed out that the teacher had forgotten to account for Sports Day on the schedule, causing him to flush with embarrassment and sending the whole plan into disarray. When the meeting finally wrapped up, both Jack and Aster were called to the front. 

“Ms. Joyce has been in touch with you regarding the fight?”

“What fight? Kids told a couple bullies to rack off. Nobody threw any punches.” Jack nodded along with Aster’s surly response.

“Be that as it may, both of your children have already been suspended this school year. It would be a shame for it to happen again. They should be on their best behaviour and remain focused on their studies.”

“If you think-” Aster looked about ready to erupt.

“I have a question!” Jack elbowed Aster in the side. “About the schedule. The changes. Because, I mean, you’re moving Day 4 to the Monday-”

“To the Friday.”

“-because of Sports- wait, the Friday? But that moves Day 5 to Monday?”

“Yes.”

“But Day 5 is scheduled library and research time.” Jack had memorized the whole damn thing, just so he couldn’t be caught out in a meeting and accused of being “inattentive to Cupcake’s scholastic needs” again.

“Do you have a point, Mr. Frost?

“I thought the library was closed on Mondays?” It was a bit of information he’d picked up from Cupcake who, bookworm that she was, complained about the school not funding the library enough. No librarian meant no library access. 

“Well, I-” he flipped through his papers. “That is...”

“Or did they change that too? I’m sure you know better than I do,” Jack said.

“Yes,” Mr. P replied, gritting his teeth.

“And you’re going to email us the revised schedule anyway right?” The teacher nodded stiffly. “Great! We look forward to reading it. Right, Aster?” 

Aster scowled and stalked away down the hall, fiddling with his phone.

“Sorry. He’s probably just grumpy about the waste of paper, what with all your printouts being worthless now.”

Mr. P leveled a hard look at Jack, whose expression remained politely neutral.

“You know, I should go. See you next month!” he chirped and turned, hiding his grin. 

Jack caught up with Aster at the doors, slipping out behind him. Once they were on the walk, Aster grumbled something under his breath that Jack didn’t quite catch.

“Forget him. He’s an asshole. What were they supposed to do, let Monty get pounded?” How was letting a kid get bullied into submission was the right thing to do under any circumstances?

Aster heaved a sigh and shook his head, “Cupcake all right?”

“Yeah. About what you said last time? You were right about talking to her.”

“Oh. Yeah? I know I was a bit harsh-” Aster’s phone began to vibrate manically again and he snarled, pulling it out to glare at it as though wishing he could throttle whoever was on the other end.

“Hey, you okay?”

“No,” Aster sighed. “Sandy made the mistake of giving my number to my ex’s parents.”

“Your in-laws?”

“Ex-in-laws, I suppose. They hated me.”

“And they’re harassing you? Did something happen with your ex?”

“Nah. We’re apples. She was here for a week at Christmas. We were good friends even when everything else crumbled, so when we split it was all right. That was four years ago.”

“Then why-?”

“It’s on account of Sophie. She was an unexpected surprise. Clara didn’t care whether she had her, one way or the other, but I offered to take primary custody so she did,” Aster smiled sadly. “I had five siblings. I’d always wanted a big family, little brothers or sisters for Jamie… Anyways, worked out all right.”

“So what’s the problem with your in-laws?”

“They’re inserting themselves where they aren’t bloody wanted. Somebody sent a photo of Sophie to them and suddenly they’re doting grandparents, desperate to see her.” That didn’t sound so bad.

“Shouldn’t they be?”

“Sophie’s better off without them,” Aster answered bluntly.

“But they’re family.” Family was important. Jack couldn’t imagine why Aster would want to keep them from the kids, even if they didn’t really get along themselves. Jack’s parents had tried, even though he knew his mom had hated having to deal with Grandma Frost, and Jack had good memories of his visits with her when he was young. They were all gone now. “Maybe they mean well. Have you tried talking to them?”

“Have I - ” Aster stuttered, eyes narrowing. “What do you know about it?”

“I know what it’s like not to have any family at all. I’d want to keep any that I could.”

“You have no idea what you’re yabbering on about, and you’re sure a hell not the only one who’s lost people they care about,” Aster sucked in a shaky breath. “Not all families are ones you want to keep.”

It was an ominous end to the conversation, and Aster stormed off without giving Jack a chance to respond. Fuck. 

He kicked at the snowbank and replayed the conversation in his head. Maybe he was out of line. Jack didn’t know anything about them, he barely knew Aster, he just, he’d thought… He’d thought about what he would have wanted.

Jack would have given anything to have some of his family back. Any of them. But the Frosts and Overland had been small clans, whittled down by illness and injury, and both Jack and Cupcake had been only children of only children. Aster had said he had five siblings. “I had” not “I have”, he remembered now. And Jack had implied… damn. He’d probably hit Aster pretty hard in a sore spot that was still bruised from whatever his in-laws were inflicting.

Well, he’d sucked it up and talked about feelings with Cupcake, he could manage trying to sort it out with Aster too. Aster had let Jack’s pissy mood roll off him last month, hadn’t he? Jack would just have to do the same. As long as he got the chance. Or made himself one. Resolved, Jack quickened his pace for home, hoping that Ana would still be up when he got there. He had questions.


	6. February

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to sign up if you want to take part in the RotG Secret Santa this year. Still open!
> 
> https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSfUOx2gJZtYdfMxcwCG-coktnQZ2E8VyJhZIMrBRse6w4eVwg/viewform?usp=sf_link

Ana was a meddling meddler, but Jack couldn’t bring himself to mind. Aster had reached out in a text a couple days after the January meeting, surprising him with an apology. Jack had gotten a confession out of Ana, who had given Aster the number through Sandy, who’d been feeling guilty over his misstep with the in-laws and was concerned for Aster’s dark mood. He didn’t mind really, though she should have asked, even having listened to Jack unload about the blow-up and knowing that he wanted to work things out.

_Aster: I shouldn’t have taken it out on you_

_Jack: it’s ok_  
_Jack: you were pretty upset_

_Aster: They’re awful Jack_  
_Aster: I mean it_

He knew immediately who Aster was talking about and was curious as to what Aster’s in-laws had done that had him so adamantly against them. It must have been pretty bad.

_Jack: i’m sorry about the family thing_

_Aster: No worries_  
_Aster: I don’t want you to think I’m being petty_

Jack began typing, intending to deny it, but Aster responded first with a quick series of texts. Things Jack didn’t have any right to know but that Aster evidently needed to tell him anyway. How Clara had been treated as a child. How focused her parents were on appearances and achievements. How they’d controlled everything in her life up until she’d met Aster and finally broken away from them. How she much she still struggled with a fear of failure. 

_Jack: wow. That must have made the divorce hard_

_Aster: YES. Took me a while to get her to admit we were done, but we managed all right after that. I don’t think she expected me to be so okay with the whole thing._

The conversation had ended there, with other responsibilities calling, but a day later, Jack got another text.

_Aster: Can you not understand the word no?_

_Jack: did i miss something?_

_Aster: No. Sorry. That wasn’t for you._

_Jack: they’re still texting, calling, whatever?_

_Aster: They’re bloody determined._

_Jack: why?_

Jack was glad he was done for the day because that meant he could sit in the lodge and read the wall of text that Aster answered with. The in-laws wanted Sophie. They’d been indifferent towards Jamie, why Aster didn’t know. Jamie had been the excuse Clara had used when she’d stayed with Aster instead of going home, but Aster said she’d never have gone anyway, baby or not. Maybe they’d written off Jamie as being like his dad. Sophie, on the other hand, was a mini Clara. Sweet, blonde, and picture perfect. Another chance for them to get it “right”.

_Aster: They don’t think I take proper care of her. Too messy and undisciplined._  
_Aster: I’m an incompetent father because my three year old doesn’t look like she walked out of a babyGap ad._  
_Aster: Plus, they want her in some kind of high-end preschool._

_Jack: are they going to challenge you for custody???_

_Aster: No. Wouldn’t stand a chance if they did. Clara’d be on my side._  
_Aster: They know it too. They’re trying to convince me to send her to them. For her own good, they say._

_Jack: they actually believe that bullshit?_

_Aster: Oh yeah. They mean well, as far as their narrow little worldview goes._

_Jack: forget anything i ever said about meaning well_

_Aster: I understood where you were coming from once I calmed down._  
_Aster: Thanks for listening though._

Aster wasn’t the only one who spilled out the details of their past. Jack admitted to a lot of his own issues, things he’d never been able to say out loud were easier to type. How hard he’d been hit by his parent's deaths, lashing out and doing stupid things. How he’d barely gotten into college and how horrified his parents would have been, which had only made it worse, knowing that they’d have been disappointed in him. 

_Jack: but i got my shit together and got my degree, took a year off_  
_Jack: then Cupcake’s parents died_

He didn’t bother mentioning Sam. That was a conversation he wasn’t willing to have with Aster just yet.

_Aster: Strewth. You ever talk to anyone?_

_Jack: not really_

_Aster: No counselling?_

_Jack: a couple times, right after they died, but then I moved away for college_

Jack had visited student services at college once, on a particularly bad day, but it hadn’t helped. In retrospect, he didn’t know what they would have said or done with the mood he was in, but being greeted with a stack of forms to fill out before he’d gotten to say more than hello was like running into a wall. He’d left and never gone back.

_Jack: i talk to Nick and Ana sometimes, but they don’t really get it?_

_Aster: Grief you mean?_

_Jack: yeah_  
_Jack: i want them to understand, but i hate bringing it up_  
_Jack: they act like i’m suddenly made of glass or something_  
_Jack: i’m not some tragic headcase_

_Aster: Fair enough. If you need to talk though, I’m happy to listen._  
_Aster: Lost most of my family in a plane crash, about a year and a half before Jamie was born._

_Jack: that sucks_

_Aster: Bloody oath it does_

Aster’s genuine understanding and sympathy were not helping Jack's developing crush. He had a bit of a temper and didn’t properly appreciate winter, but other than that Jack was hard pressed to find things that would dissuade his attraction. Aster had even been encouraging about his new job, which Jack occasionally complained about.

He loved skiing. That wasn’t a problem. Even his students, mostly beginners, were great. About eighty percent were kids. Jack could handle them, no problem. It was the parents, dropping off kids late, arguing over lessons and technique, pressuring the kids into doing things they weren’t comfortable with yet or alternately running over when they inevitably wiped out, wasting lesson time and then demanding that Jack extend their slot. It was frustrating.

_Jack: it pays okay though_

_Aster: Nothing wrong with honest work._

_Jack: i know, but I didn’t get a Kin degree to end up as a ski instructor_

_Aster: Kin?_

_Jack: Kinesiology_

_Aster: You’ll find something eventually. This is just for the season, right?_

_Jack: yeah_

It went on like that between them. Texting each other randomly once they’d gotten the heavy stuff out of the way, which was good. Jack had done more emotional processing in the past couple months than in the rest of his life combined. His college year realizations didn’t compare and it was hard. Jack had no time for fumbling through his own shit. He had to face it all head on if he wanted to keep Cupcake from suffering the stupidity and heartache he’d gone through.

Damn if it wasn’t nice to have someone to talk to, though. Nick and Ana were old enough to be his parents and Aster, while a bit older, was easier. He was intelligent and empathetic and Jack wished he could read between the lines of his texts because sometimes? Sometimes he’d write things and Jack would wonder if the flirtatious undertones were wishful thinking on his part or… well, no. It was definitely wishful thinking. 

Right? Right.

Valentine’s Day came and went, both Jack and Cupcake sailing through with little fanfare. Mr. P was not a fan of the holiday. Aster had had little to say on the subject other than to recommend the stores with the best chocolate sales on the 15th.

When the evening of the meeting arrived, Jack found himself oddly calm. The only time he’d been at the school in the last month had been to see Ms. Joyce and she’d given him a very positive report on Cupcake’s progress. The night was cool and still, the frozen ground crunching underfoot as he walked. Jack sighed, enjoying the solitude.

He stomped the snow off his boots as he entered the school, bracing himself for Mr. Pompously-Proud’s condescension. He probably wouldn’t be too thrilled with Jack after last month’s calendar fiasco. It had taken three emails to the parent list before everything had been sorted out. 

Just as he reached the classroom, a cough caught Jack’s attention and he glanced back to see Aster behind him.

“Hey-”

“Oh, Jack!” Hila approached him at the threshold and caught him in a hug.

“Uh,” Jack looked at Aster pleadingly but the bastard just smirked.

“Ana told us about what happened,” a tall, elegant woman said, standing back and watching Hila with amusement. 

What the hell did Ana say?

“It’s so tragic. And Cupcake is such a sweet girl. She’s lucky to have you.” Hila released him, patting his shoulder, her eyes watery behind her glasses.

“Um, thanks?” Jack had very little experience at dealing with weepy women. One hormonal pre-teen was enough, he thought, he didn’t need teary soccer moms too.

“I’m Angeline, Claude and Caleb’s mother,” she greeted Jack. “You might see my husband at another meeting but tonight I drew the short straw. Good evening, Aster.”

“Angeline,” Aster nodded and tried to hide his grin, badly. 

“Come now, Hila. We’d better sit.”

“What just happened?” he turned to Aster and followed him to their place in the back row, where they tossed their coats over the chairs and sat.

“It’s pretty straightforward, mate. A tragically orphaned boy, making his way in the world, becomes the guardian of his tragically orphaned cousin, who has been thrust into a new school and is being forced to deal with bullies and a nasty teacher,” Aster put his hand on his heart. “Tragically.”

“Oh come on,” Jack snorted and shoved him half out of his chair. “My life is not a tragic TV movie.”

“No one’s offered to buy the rights, then?” 

“Smart ass.” Jack lowered his voice. “Why don't they do that with you?”

“Me? I’m not tragic. Angeline knows Clara, though they never really got on. But the touchy-feely?” Jack nodded. “They're all coupled up. Singles get left out sometimes, makes it awkward to be too chatty. You’re young enough to get away with being doted on.”

“Hold on. Are you telling me you’re the hot single dad that causes drama by flirting with the soccer moms?” Because Jack could totally see that.

“There… might have been a misunderstanding or two,” Aster rubbed his face. 

“Or two?”

“Anyway,” he forcefully redirected the conversation, “I know you got my messages but I'd like to say it to your face. I'm sorry for being an asshole last time.”

“I'm sorry you're an asshole too.”

“Now hold on-” Aster began but gave up when Jack broke into giggles. “Brat.”

“If we could get started?” Mr. Puckering-sourpuss glared at them from his desk.

Jack managed to get control of himself and, once Mr. P was on a roll, leaned over to whisper, “I’m sorry too.”

Aster’s eyes flickered over to meet his and he leaned closer, shoulder pressing into Jack’s in acknowledgement. It was nice. Not that Jack was completely touch starved. Ana was forever hugging him in passing and Nick occasionally tried to crush the life out of him as well, but this was a different sort of warmth. Aster was so close Jack could smell the faint scent of paint thinner and, yup, there were still traces of colour underneath the nails of his hands. 

“… and I would appreciate any parent volunteers that would like to contribute as community teachers. I’m looking for professional experience that the children can learn from and be inspired by.”

Aster raised his hand.

“Mr. Bunnymund?” the teacher called on him, frowning.

“I can come in for art.”

Mr. P wore his best judging-you-but-attempting-to-play-nice expression, “I’m not sure that sort of art is… appropriate.”

What? Jack glanced at Aster, who was smirking. What did the teacher think that Aster did?

“Really, mate? You’ve got two of my picture books in the library here.”

“I-” the teacher stuttered. 

“Don’t you have a show coming up as well, Aster?” Angeline turned in her seat to look back at them.

“Yeah, but not ‘til April. I’ll have a little time.”

“Well...” Mr. P scribbled a quick note on his clipboard. “Well then. I suppose I’ll put you down for fine arts.”

“Sounds good,” Aster nodded.

Jack tried to cover his mouth to avoid laughing. He was pretty sure a few of the other parents were just as amused, but, of course, Jack was the one that got noticed by Mr. P’s beady eyes.

“And you Mr. Frost? Do you have a talent to share with us?”

“Me?” Crap. “I, uh...” What was he supposed to do? He couldn’t take the whole class skiing. He wasn’t even a senior instructor.

“You could do a gym session with the kids, yeah?” Aster spoke up. 

“Gym?” Mr. P’s nose wrinkled in distaste.

“Jack’s a Kinesiologist,” he continued, knocking his knee into Jack’s and startling him into speaking.

“Uh, sure. I could. Um, body mechanics and balance and… yes. Kinesiology.”

“Very well,” the teacher eyed him dubiously and made a short note before continuing to look for other volunteers.

“Didn’t just paint you in a corner, did I?” Aster said out of the side of his mouth.

“No. It’s fine.” 

“Good.” A little shock went up Jack's spine when Aster reached over to pat his thigh. “Maybe you can get them out of this ruddy room so they can have a little fun, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he squeaked. Jack forced himself to breathe evenly and think about the tax return he hadn’t finished yet because the sweater he was wearing tonight was not long enough to cover up the consequences of letting his libido claw its way to the surface.

And then the meeting was over. As parents chattered and pulled on their coats, Aster stood and squeezed Jack’s shoulder, sending Jack’s heart rate shooting back up.

“Walk you to the corner?”

Jack nodded and hoped his face didn’t give him away, grateful that the cold air would help his situation.

Ten minutes later, he was slumped against his door, trying to regain his equilibrium before he checked on Cupcake. Aster had clapped him on the back at the corner before heading towards his own place. It didn’t mean anything, though. They were friends. That was all. Anything else was wishful thinking, he reminded himself, thudding his head back against the wood. They probably wouldn’t even see each other until the next meeting.

Jack’s phone chimed.

_Aster: Forgot to ask, are you around sometime this week? I could use a hand in the studio if you have some time. I promise I’ll make it worth your while._

Jack let his head fall back into the door again. He was so screwed.


	7. March

Wishful thinking indeed. Jack had ended up helping Aster move several large canvases, along with some other heavy lifting that had required more than one set of hands, and it had been worth every drop of sweat because Aster had rewarded him with food. Made from scratch baked goods laden with chocolate and light years away from the Christmas cookies that were still taking up room in Jack’s freezer. It almost made up for the sort-of-flirting that was frustrating the hell out of Jack. 

They ran into each other all the time now, in line at a coffee shop Jack had discovered or at the park Aster had recommended or one of the dozen other places they had in common. Suddenly, it felt like Aster was everywhere. It was nice, even when it was confusing, and Jack tried not to think of it as being any more significant than when he ran into Hila or Angeline. Just a couple parents, being friendly and… texting each other constantly. 

Aster bitched about the weather and sent photos of Sophie’s adorably chaotic fashion choices. Jack agonized over his job search and sent Aster Australian themed memes and Dad jokes.

_Aster: You have a Community Teaching day set yet?_

_Jack: nope. you?_

_Aster: Not yet, but he did ask about my schedule._

Jack had already emailed his schedule in. He was hoping to hear about a date soon. He’d never thought about working with kids but the more he looked into it the more enthusiastic he got about the idea and getting back into his area of expertise felt good. He all ready had half a plan done. Hopefully, he’d get the chance to use it. 

_Jack: Cupcake’s looking forward to art camp over the break_

_Aster: Which one?_

_Jack: it’s drawing, like comic books_  
_Jack: manga style_

_Aster: Got to start somewhere. Good for her._

Ms. Joyce had told them about the camp. Cupcake had stacks of translated manga, so it was right up her alley and might give her the chance to meet some more like-minded kids. Hockey season was wrapping up and while she got along with her teammates, many of them had been playing together for so many seasons that it was hard for new friendships to click. This camp ran the whole break and included other activities too, thankfully. Jack’s free time was eaten up by lesson plans for his ski clients and job hunting for when the snow finally melted, which meant that the break was no vacation for him. He was busy with everyone else who had time off, offering lessons and helping with the day camp when he could too. 

_Jack: jamie have any plans?_

_Aster: Nah. We’re going to take the week and have some fun, hit the museum and the like._

_Jack: sophie likes museums?!_

_Aster: The kid's museum downtown is all hands on, art and engineering. Lets her go mad with someone else’s stuff for a change._

_Jack: that sounds more like her_

_Aster: You?_

_Jack: work. someone’s got to help beginners face the bunny hill_

It would be busy too. The small resort still had a decent base, though how long it would hold out was up in the air, so people were making the most of it. Jack took all the hours he could. 

It was Wednesday of the break and Jack was checking the schedule for his last session of the day. The name was surprisingly familiar. He poked his head out to the rental area and spied Aster, Jamie, and Sophie on one of the benches.

“Hey guys.”

“Jack!” Sophie attempted to jump up and nearly toppled over, with only one foot secure in a ski boot.

“Surprise!” Jamie added. Aster threw him a rueful grin.

“They’ve been after me to come for ages. Figured we’d give it a try at least.”

“Uh huh. You’ve never skied before?” Jack knew the answer by the look on the man’s face. Aster hated the cold. Jamie must have worked hard to wear him down.

“Dad doesn’t even like sledding!” 

“Well, maybe we can bring him around,” Jack said, grinning. This was going to be fun. 

“Oh no, I don’t like that look.”

“I’ll be gentle, Kangaroo.”

“Oi!”

Jack helped them get set up, double checking the sizes on everything they’d been given and securing their boots properly before leading them to the bottom of the bunny hill.

“I thought we were supposed to go down the hill?” said Jamie.

“Yup, we will. After I show you a few quick moves okay?”

Jack went through his usual lesson for first-timers. Jamie carefully listened and adjusted as Jack instructed him, catching on quick, while Sophie threw herself into it like the daredevil she was, wiping out in a pile of giggles again and again. She mastered the pizza and french-fry positions eventually, even if she did prefer to french-fry her way as fast as possible down the slope and give her Dad a heart attack while doing so.

Aster, on the other hand, was awkward as hell, shuffling along instead of gliding over the snow. 

“You need to give yourself a little more momentum.” Jack reached out to help. “If you straighten-” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Aster, come on. Let me help you balance.”

“You come surfing with me sometime and we’ll see how well you can balance, mate.” Aster’s green eyes glared out from between his hat and the scarf that covered his mouth and nose. 

“Come on, Dad! You can do it!” Jamie and Sophie cheered from the bottom of the slope.

“See? They believe in you.” Jack smiled at Aster, who huffed out a resigned sigh.

“Oh, all right. Show me your tricks.”

Jack did his best, gently helping Aster find the right position and not overthinking where he was putting his hands. It wasn’t like he had to worry much. With the number of layers Aster was wearing, it was next to impossible for Jack to inadvertently cop a feel. He wondered if Aster had been serious about the surfing. There was nowhere nearby for it, but a day at the beach together? That idea would keep Jack’s imagination busy for a while.

Aster made exactly one full trip down the hill and then settled in the snow at the bottom to watch Jack focus on the kids. Sophie didn’t last much longer. When she flopped over next to her father, Jack took Jaime down the green circle slope that ended next to the bunny hill. The boy was pleading for one more go when the outdoor lighting came on and Jack realized the time.

“Whoops. I think we overshot your lesson end.”

“Sorry about that,” Aster said, struggling to get up without crossing his skis. “Didn’t mean to keep you.”

“Here,” Jack pulled him up. “I didn’t mind. It was fun. You’re my last one today anyway.”

He led them back to the lodge and began sorting out their skis and poles. Aster sat with the kids, letting the scarf drop away from his face and keeping an arm around a sleepy Sophie. Ana had said there was no gossip about Aster dating, but come on. He was adorable with his kids. Who wouldn’t be interested?

“Is Cupcake at home?” Jaime asked, nearly falling over as he yanked off one of his ski boots.

“Nope. She’s at camp and then out tonight with Pippa.” Jack had met both Pippa and her parents, who’d gotten the camp recommendation from Ms. Joyce as well. They seemed nice enough and were dropping Cupcake off after dinner. “Doesn’t she go to your school too?”

“Yeah. She’s in Mr. Shalazar’s class.” 

Jack dropped off the skis and poles. When he got back Jamie had his own boots on and Aster was kneeling to help Sophie.

“Thanks, Jackie. You have a ride home?”

“I usually get a lift with one of the others or bus.” Jack had an assigned locker on site so he didn’t have to lug his equipment back and forth.

“You can come with us then.”

“Oh, um. Okay. Just, give me a minute to deal with my gear?” 

“No worries. I still have to find where this one left her boots.” Sophie kicked her socked feet and giggled.

The ride home was warm and filled with chatter, Jamie still thrilled by the new experience and Sophie randomly inserting herself into conversations, usually with something to say about bunnies or butterflies. Jack liked the noisy jumble. Aster rolled his eyes once or twice, but he clearly loved his kids' energy and enthusiasm too.

All too soon they pulled up to the curb.

“Thanks for the lift.”

“See you next week?”

“Next week?” Jamie complained loudly from the backseat. “I want to go skiing again.”

Aster groaned, probably intending to avoid ski hills for the rest of his life. Jack opted to rescue him from further embarrassment.

“I’ll keep an eye on him if he wants to go again.” Aster looked dubious, which wasn’t unreasonable. Jamie was a beginner and wouldn’t be used to getting around the hill on his own. “I get off around 4pm on Friday. I could take Jamie for an hour after that, try out a few of the other slopes?”

“Please, Dad?”

“Hmm. All right. But you have to listen to Jack.”

“I swear.”

And it went on like that, their paths falling into alignment, Jack taking Jamie skiing, meeting Aster for coffee, going to dinner at Hila’s for Monty’s friends and their parents... Jack had tried to mingle, he had, and he’d still ended up in a corner with Aster for half the evening. He hadn’t even realized he’d done it until Angeline had tilted her head just so at them and his words had dried up in his mouth. He’d quickly pulled himself away and attempted to act like the adult he was supposed to be, spending the rest of the time plotting with Hila about Mr. P. 

The monthly meeting, boring bane of his month that it was, ended up being entirely uneventful. No teary moms or grumpy Aster, and Mr. Punk had pretty much ignored him. Jack was even on the Community Teacher schedule that had been handed out. It was almost eerie. Not that he was going to complain, given how the school year had started.

Exiting out into the night, Aster knocked his shoulder into Jack lightly.

“Want to grab a beer?” 

Jack blinked. A friendly drink? A more than friendly drink? Nothing in Aster’s tone indicated his intent. Whatever. The answer was yes.

“You don’t have to get back?”

“Nah. Kids are with Sandy for the night.” 

“Okay.”

They walked to a nearby restaurant that had a bar off the side, rows of taps gleaming. Jack had no idea what to order, so he followed Aster’s lead. They chatted a little about Ana (who Aster liked) and the other parents, the new barista at their coffee place that kept mishearing orders, the planned construction on the main road three blocks from the school, and whether or not Jack and Hila had any real hope in making a case against Mr. Punk. 

Jack tapped his fingers against his drink, which was his third? Fourth? He had no idea actually. The bartender was very good at unobtrusively replacing empty glasses with full ones.

“Okay, maybe this is a weird thing to ask,” and Jack knew should probably shut up now, “but it sounds like you know a lot of people, but aren’t really friends with them?” 

“I’m friendly enough.”

“Yeah, I know, but I mean- you’re not-” Jack gestured in the air, as though he might catch the word he was searching for.

“I’m not much of a social butterfly, you mean,” Aster grimaced. “I suppose I do only have a few close friendships.”

“Like Sandy?”

“Yeah.”

“How did you two meet anyway?”

“Oh, at some gallery when I first came over. He’s a brilliant sculptor.” Aster shook his head. “Can't say I understand his taste in men though.”

“Koz? He seems… nice?” He must have some redeeming qualities if Aster was okay with his kids staying over there.

“Koz doesn’t always translate well if you don’t know him. Somehow he and Sandy click. I don’t get it, but whatever makes him happy, right? Besides, the pommy bastard's good with kids. Misses his own sprog, I expect. His wife is about as overzealous as my ex is disinterested.”

“Oh.” 

“What about you, now that Cupcake seems more settled? Any luck on the dating front?”

“Oh. Uh, I don't have much time.” Jack picked at the cardboard coaster on the bar, peeling off a layer of paper. “Not that I’d know where to start around here.” 

“You're a pretty bloke though. Would've thought you'd do just fine.” The word pretty stunned Jack into stillness, making it easy for Aster to reach over and brush a stray hair out of his face.

“I- uh,” Jack's thoughts collided, “- well, my last boyfriend didn't think so. He had more important things to do than stick around with me.”

And there it was. Jack hadn’t been hiding his sexuality, but he hadn’t mentioned it before either. He didn’t think Ana would have said anything. Especially after Jack had asked her not to help with his love life. Aster wasn’t showing any surprise at Jack’s mention of a boyfriend, though, and with Sandy being the kids' very gay godfather he knew Aster wouldn’t have a problem with it. 

“He ditched you? Sounds like the tosser had skewed priorities.” 

Jack shrugged, “It doesn't matter. Cupcake needed me after that anyway.”

“Better off without him, then?”

“Yeah,” and Jack was surprised to find that he meant it. He'd only been half-heartedly attempting to date, but somewhere along the way that feeling of inadequacy and loneliness had faded.

“Good.” Aster tossed a few bills on the bar and clasped Jack by the shoulder. “My treat. C'mon. Let's walk back.”

The air was still cold, but the bite of winter had passed. They walked at a leisurely pace. The neighbourhood was quiet, most people tucked away inside, the bare branches of the trees casting shadows from the light of the moon.

“I’m doing some egg decorating with the kids next weekend for Easter, trying some ideas for the class with paint and dye and the like. You and yours are welcome over,” Aster said when they reached the corner where they usually parted.

“Sounds like fun.”

“Wear clothes you don’t mind getting stained, though. Old t-shirts and ratty jeans are good.”

Jack was a bit tipsy but thinking about short sleeves and remembering that tattoos still lurked under Aster’s winter clothes spurred another connection.

“Tattoos!”

“What?”

“That’s what Mr. Punk thought you did when he was all it’s-not-appropriate at you.” Aster laughed out loud at Jack’s poor imitation of Mr. P.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured too. Bloody snob. That art is permanent and you can’t be mucking around. Talent is important. I’ll only go to the one place myself.”

“So you do have tattoos.” Jack thrust a finger at Aster’s chest.

“I do, but if you’re looking for a show, it’s too damn cold.”

“People take pictures, you know.”

“Are you asking me for racy selfies?” Aster raised an eyebrow and smirked at the blush that spread across Jack’s face. Where did he have tattoos?

“You- you have tattoos that-”

“You’ll just have to wait for summer to see, won’t you?”

Jack blinked and then, quick as a flash, scooped up a handful of snow and flung it at Aster, who ducked and laughed again before jogging further away.

“G’night, Jackie!”

Fucking tease. Jack grinned the rest of the way home.


	8. April: Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry - got a bit overwhelmed by Holiday fic exchanges (some of which were RotG)! Going to split up some of the chapters and post updates regularly again.

While he mourned the loss of the snow and his job, Jack was thoroughly enjoying spring. 

The Easter art experiments at Aster’s had been a blast if you didn’t mind the mess. He’d worried maybe spending the whole day on it would stress Aster out even more but thankfully Aster had been able to relax and take the much needed the break. He’d been pushing himself too hard to finish the last pieces for his upcoming show, as Jack had discovered. Aster could be snarky as hell when he was grumpy, even via text, though he was equally apologetic when he behaved like an ass. Now that Jack knew him better, it was easy to laugh off. He didn’t mind if Aster vented in his direction. He never took it out on his kids and everyone needed to get things out sometimes. It felt good that their friendship had grown to the point where either of them could make an ass of themselves in front of the other and it would be taken in stride.

Jack had also discovered how hopeless Aster was when he was working. He had some kind of internal alarm that kept him on time for picking up his kids and managed to feed them well enough, but on his own, the man was a disaster. It was adorable. All Jack had to do was show up when Aster was up to his elbows in paint, with coffee and cheap take-out in hand, and he’d be welcomed like a king.

The increase in his use Aussie slang and cursing under stress was pretty amusing too. 

“Ace! You’re a bloody life saver, mate.” Aster clutched the coffee, slumping into the couch in his studio and quickly slugging back half the cup. Jack settled in beside him. The tiny couch was the only place to sit and just big enough for them to fit pressed against each other.

“You’re welcome.” Jack tore open the bag he’d brought and handed a burger over. “How’d the class go yesterday?”

The Community Teacher days had started this month. Cupcake was happy to provide all the details. Apparently, one of the parents did backyard beekeeping, which was a big hit, and another was a lawyer with some kind of finance or contract specialty, which they’d found less thrilling. He’d heard Jamie questioning how someone could possibly be a lawyer if they never went to court? Claude and Caleb’s dad had brought in some fascinating stuff, being a materials engineer, and Aster had been there yesterday.

“It went well. Kids had fun.”

“And by fun, you mean colourful chaos, right?” Jack grinned.

Cupcake had returned home with paint in her hair and a wide grin on her face, chattering a mile a minute about the Community Teacher afternoon with Aster. Jack had barely been able to keep up, though at least he knew all the kid’s names now. He could even tell the twins apart in person, nine times out of ten.

“There may have been some... disorder.” 

“Mr. Pure-and-precise must have hated that.” 

“Nah. He fucked off somewhere that morning.”

“What?”

“Yup. No idea why.” Aster shrugged. “The substitute was nice enough and we ignored his ruddy list of ‘Things not to do in the classroom’ which were all made up bullshit. Checked with the custodian and everything.”

Typical. Jack pulled out napkins for their greasy fingers and set out the fries for them to pick at. Aster proceeded to inhale his share.

“I can’t believe it. I figured he was a robot for sure.” Jack shoved his shoulder into Aster, offering him more fries. “Listen, you’re not going to starve to death between now and the show if I don’t bring you food, are you?”

“Shut it, you dag,” Aster groused, shoving him back while taking the offering. “I manage.”

“Uh-huh.” Well, he could always ask Jamie by way of Cupcake. Jack had already gotten the impression that Aster kept the kids well fed and made his own way on leftovers and caffeine. “If you pass out, Jamie will take pictures.”

Aster squawked at the implication and Jack had to leap away to avoid a headlock. 

“Okay, then! Happy painting and don’t die of malnutrition!” he fled the house and was on the sidewalk when his phone vibrated in his pocket.

_Aster: You’re a little shit._

Jack grinned at the screen. Another text quickly followed.

_Aster: Thanks for the tucker._

_Jack: anytime_

_Aster: I’ll make it up to you after the show. Dinner?_

Dinner? Jack’s thoughts spun around in his head. Date-dinner? Or friend-dinner? Maybe dinner with the kids? His response would be the same for any option, but Jack would probably agonize over the possibilities for a while. Like a moron. 

_Jack: sure!_

As the universe was determined to make everything as hard as possible for him, Jack was not so lucky as to get a substitute on his Community Teaching day. The day of his class was nerve-wracking and awesome in equal measure. 

He met the class in the gym. They filed in, faces running from curious to bored, Mr. P himself looking as sour as Jack had ever seen him. Well, Jack wasn’t here for him. 

“All right. First question,” he looked at the kids sitting neatly in a row, probably conditioned into rigid order by their teacher. “Raise your hand if you hate sitting at your desk.”

Most of their hands shot up and Mr. Punk scowled at Jack. This was going to be fun.

The hour he’d been allotted flew by as he worked with the kids, leaving Mr. P to sulk in the corner clutching his clipboard in dismay. It wasn’t like Jack was showing them how to riot or anything. The exercises he took them through were simple and quiet. He just knew how unnatural it was to sit at a desk for hours on end. Now the kids would understand a bit more about their bodies and what they could do to make their school environment work better for them, enabling them to focus and absorb their lessons. And maybe their teacher would learn a thing or two as well.

Jack wasn’t going to hold his breath, however.

“I suppose that went well, given that you’ve no real professional experience.” Whether he had expected Jack to screw up or was just annoyed that he hadn’t, Jack didn’t know, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to give Mr. Pull-the-other-one-you-smarmy-jerk the satisfaction of getting him riled up.

“Thanks. I thought it was pretty great too.” The kids were chatting among themselves, a few of them still competing to see who could hold the balance poses longest.

“Hmm. We’ll see how the evaluations turn out.” 

Evaluations? For an hour of volunteering? Really? What the hell had possessed this guy to become an elementary school teacher? He would have been so much better at some super-technical professional association, nitpicking certification exams or something.

“I do love feedback,” Jack grit his teeth and smiled. Mr. P’s eyebrow twitched.

“I sincerely doubt-” The lunch bell rang, thank God, forcing the teacher to interrupt himself in the name of punctuality. “Back to class for lunch, single file!”

“Have a good day!” Jack waved them off to a chorus of “You too!” and “Bye Jack!”.

Mr. P grimaced and followed them. 

Whatever. Jack walked through the halls to the front office and signed himself out. Normally, he’d go grab lunch, maybe drop by Aster’s, but instead, he sat on the steps outside and pulled out his phone. The kids had asked a ton of great questions and Jack wanted to jot some of them down before he forgot. He was enjoying this kid-centred approach more than he’d expected. Jack wasn’t anywhere near being qualified to be a P.E. teacher, and that might not really be his thing, but he did like the idea of working more with children. It was something to think about anyway.

Aster wouldn’t have welcomed him at the moment anyway. The big show was tonight and Jack was staying well clear until the dust had settled and the gallery had opened. He even had an invitation. Aster had given it to him almost shyly, as though Jack would ever miss the opening. He’d seen Aster slaving away over his canvases and was dying to see the finished works hung, arranged in their thematic groupings for the public to admire.

Jack stopped by home to get ready. A few hours and some serious agonizing over what to wear later, and Jack was at the gallery.

The show was packed, canvases hanging on the walls and, in one instance, suspended in the air over a staircase. He stopped at the small bar to grab himself a glass of wine and wandered the room. Jack had seen most of the pieces before, but this was different. For the smaller ones especially. The way they were placed together in groupings and angled just so made them take on another kind of energy. Jack lingered at each installation, basking in the aura of the works and taking every opportunity to eavesdrop on the discussions going on around him.

At the bottom of the stairs, a tall woman caught him by the elbow.

“Hello,” she greeted him like an old friend. With ash blonde hair piled on top of her head and wrapped in a flowing multi-coloured gown, she looked a work of art herself. 

“Uh, hi?”

“You’re Jack, aren’t you?”

“That… depends on who’s asking?” 

The woman grinned, “Clara.”


	9. April: Part 2

“Uh-” It took a moment to click. Oh! Aster’s Clara, Jamie and Sophie’s mother. 

Oh God.

“Glad that’s it’s finally over?” she nudged him.

“What?” Jack said dumbly, clutching his glass, still dealing with the fact that he was chatting with Aster’s ex. 

Wait. How did she even know who Jack was?

“I know how he gets the last few weeks before a show.” Clara obviously had experience with Aster’s workaholic tendencies around his art but also sounded more amused by it than annoyed. Jack could relate.

“That’s normal for him, huh?” Jack ran a hand through his hair and tried to shake of his awkwardness. One glass of wine had not fortified him enough for this.

“Usually. When he’s creating he can be a bit of a-” she made a face.

“Grumpy Kangaroo?” Jack finished for her automatically.

“Hah. I like that!” Clara laughed and tugged at his sleeve. At least she had a sense of humour. “Come sit and tell me everything I’ve missed that Aster won’t admit to.” 

She all but dragged Jack into a corner to gossip. It was actually okay. Her kids, cupcake, the school, Nick and Ana who she was a little acquainted with… By the time she poked into Jack’s life, what little he would let her, he had relaxed considerably. Clara was clever and her sense of humour turned out to be dry and sharp. He couldn’t help but like her. Plus, she was happily shelling out for the several glasses of wine they’d gone through. 

“Jack, you haven’t said anything about you and Aster,” she looked at him over the rim of her glass.

Red flag! He sipped at his own drink in a bid for calm. Maybe he was taking her the wrong way?

“Me and Aster?” he asked, voice pitching upwards. Clara smiled. 

“Are you dating?” 

“Uh, no,” Jack sputtered. “It’s not really… I mean, we’re...”

“Not really or not yet?” 

That... was a fair question, fine, but how did she know? Was he that obvious? Or maybe Aster had said something? He attempted to put together some kind of neutral response in his head, but the way Clara’s eyes sparkled like Sophie’s did when she’d gotten into mischief and was feeling pleased with herself upended his thought process. It was totally unfair.

“Okay, no. You are way too interested in your ex’s love life,” he pointed an accusing finger at her. There. It was none of her business anyway.

“So there is a love life ask about?”

“What? I - Oh, come on!” Clara held up a hand in a calming gesture.

“I’m not trying to cause trouble, Jack, but Aster’s one of my best friends and the father of my kids. He deserves to be happy, or at least have a little fun.” Jack couldn’t argue with her there.

“He hasn’t said anything to you about dating?” he asked. Jack was fairly certain he’d have heard if Aster was, or Ana would have.

“No, he’s far too stoic on the topic. But he does talk an awful lot about you.” Jack bowed his head to hide his blush. 

“He does?” Something fluttery came to life in Jack’s chest. “We’re good friends.” And that was all really, even if they were maybe, sort of, flirting. 

“He likes you, Jack. More than most people. Jamie and Sophie have also given positive reviews, so I had to ask.” Clara patted his leg. “I can see why they’re fond of you.”

“Yeah?” Jack glanced at where Aster was extricating himself from a conversation across the room. Damn, he looked good. Aster was wearing a tailored grey suit with the jacket open and his shirt unbuttoned at the collar, no tie in sight. No tattoos peeked out either, though the crisp white of the shirt did highlight the warm tones of his skin and the fabric of his suit. He’d done something to make his hair artfully messy too and yet still hadn’t bothered to be clean shaven. How the hell he managed to keep a consistently gorgeous amount of scruff was a mystery to Jack.

Free from whoever he’d been chatting with, Aster strode across the room intent on their little corner. Jack took a deep breath and tried to think about things that were less likely to ruin the line of his trousers.

“What are you two plotting?” Aster came to a stop in front of them, arms crossed, frowning with an expression that Jack had come to label trying-to-stay-annoyed-but-secretly-amused. He loved that one. From there, it never took much to tip Aster over into Jack’s personal favourite: amused-and-fond-despite-himself-but-hiding-behind-sarcasm.

“How to steal Blooming Hope,” Jack gestured at the painting hanging from the ceiling, Mission Impossible theme music running through his head. 

“Seriously?” Aster tilted towards Jack, looking up along with him and exposing the long column of his throat. The image was not helping his resolve.

“Mmm hmm,” Clara nodded in agreement and nudged Jack. “Jack’s going to descend from the skylight while I distract the guard.”

Aster huffed in amusement and rolled his eyes, “Because Jack’s so terrifically light-fingered.” 

“One time! I tip over an easel once and he never lets me forget it,” he sighed dramatically and got a giggle out of Clara. 

“An easel and another canvas,” Aster ticked off on his fingers, “and they both fell into-”

“Oh, stuff it, Kangaroo!” 

Clara was giggling madly now, covering her mouth and leaning into Jack. 

Aster plucked the empty glass from Jack’s hand. “How many ruddy glasses of Chardonnay have you had?” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Clara managed, handing off her glass to Jack behind her back. He swung the glass up on his other side as if to toast and downed the contents. 

“Christ, it figures that you two would get along.” Rubbing a hand over his face, Aster sighed. “I’m stuck here yet a bit, though-”

“That’s great!” Aster looked at Jack dubiously. Okay, so Aster wasn’t the most socially inclined, but the attention meant the show was a hit, right? “I mean, it’s going well?”

Aster smiled and nodded, “Yeah. Can you lushes get home on your own?”

“We’ll be fine. Give us a kiss.” Aster kissed Clara on the cheek. “And Jack too.”

Jack flushed, but accepted Aster’s bemused kiss on his cheek as well.

“Glad you came,” he spoke softly against Jack’s skin, sending a shiver down his neck.

“Me too.”

Once Aster disappeared back into the crowd, Clara turned to Jack, “See?”

Jack looked away, not sure whether it was Aster or the alcohol that had set his head spinning. Probably better not to say anything he’d regret to Clara though.

“We should head out.” 

They escaped the gallery and managed to hail a cab. It was a pleasant ride back if a little awkward on Jack’s part. Clara thought there was more going on between them, but Jack was determined to stick with his cautious hopefulness. Maybe he’d have a more solid idea of where they stood after the dinner Aster had promised. 

Jack got out with Clara by Aster’s place, though she insisted on paying the driver.

“I’m so glad we got the chance to meet.”

“Me too.”

“Can I give you some free advice?’

“Can I stop you?”

“No.” There was that sparkle again. “Don’t let Aster talk himself out of it. Sometimes he does that, convinces himself that he can’t have what he wants. That he shouldn’t because he centres himself on being a Dad or an Artist with little in between.” Clara grimaced. “He’s a wonderful father. I’m not complaining. He just, Aster needs something for himself too, something I couldn’t give him. I’d like to see him find it.”

“Okay.” Jack hesitated.“You know we’re really aren’t-”

“I know. But just in case. Good night, Jack,” she squeezed his shoulder.

“Good night.”

Jack texted Aster the next day, wanting to know how it had gone and if Clara had said anything to him like she’d done with Jack.

_Jack: how did it go?_

_Aster: Great! Sold eight paintings right off._  
_Aster: Don’t mind Clara._

What did that mean?

_Jack: she was nice_

Surprisingly so, if Aster’s description of her parents was even half true. Jack was glad they’d given up once they’d realized how absolutely hopeless it was to try and wear down Aster.

_Aster: Sure she was._

_Jack: is she still there?_

_Aster: Yes, but she only came for the opening weekend. Has to leave tomorrow._

Jack didn’t end up seeing her before she left, but she did text him her number. Just in case, she’d said again.

Life continued on, as usual, if a bit more flirty. Jack sat closer to Aster at their coffee shop and let himself hope. Aster in return was open and relaxed, readily settling his hands on Jack’s shoulders and leaning into his personal space when given the opportunity, stoking the affectionate warmth that was growing in Jack’s chest. It was wonderful.

It was definitely different than it had been with Sam. Their relationship had sprung to life so quickly. Jack had enough perspective now to look back and see how needy and intense it had been between them. With Aster, it was warm and slow and steady and Jack loved it. He thought he could feel the direction they were going in now. And they’d planned their dinner, just the two of them. 

_Aster: might have to cancer tomorow_  
_Aster: cancel_

The text had come out of the blue the night before their maybe-date. The lack of sentence structure worried him.

_Jack: everything ok?_

_Aster: no_  
_Aster: sophie sick_  
_Aster: might be sleeping in the bathroom at this rate_

_Jack: you need anything?_

_Aster: no_  
_Aster: sorry_

_Jack: it’s ok_

Whatever illness it was that infected Sophie promptly wiped out Aster and Jamie as well, putting their house on lockdown for a couple days as it ran its course. Dinner would have to wait. They weren’t the only ones, either. The stomach bug had landed at the nearby daycare and made its way into several homes. Jack helped Ana make a care package for the Bunnymund’s with easy to digest food and left it on their doorstep. 

Jack threw himself into job hunting while he waited for Aster to emerge from the self-imposed quarantine. He hadn’t had much luck so far, but he kept at it. There had to be something he could do that was closer to his training. 

Between worrying about Aster and work, the anniversary of the accident had snuck up on him. Well, sort of. It was a month away now, but he had plans. Jack wanted to take Cupcake to visit the cemetery where her parents were buried, take some flowers and maybe see her old neighbourhood.

Jack texted Aster for advice, glad that he seemed to have recovered from the sleep deficit the stomach bug had given him.

_Aster: You think it’ll help?_

_Jack: i think so, if i can get her there_

_Aster: What do you mean?_

_Jack: i need a car_  
_Jack: renting one is a pain in the ass, but i think i have to_

North might have loaned him their family vehicle for a day, but Jack knew he needed it for work himself and didn’t want to make things harder for him.

_Aster: What’s the problem?_

_Jack: it’s just annoying_  
_Jack: they just want to charge me extra, because i’m under 25_

Jack’s 24th birthday had passed quietly over the winter. He hadn’t wanted anyone making a big deal out of it. Hell, he’d pretty much forgotten himself with at the stress at the time. 

Aster didn’t respond right away. Jack fiddled with his phone for a few minutes, before it pinged with Aster’s response.

_Aster: Nick can’t take you?_

_Jack: work and i kind of want it to be just us anyway_  
_Jack: have to suck up the charge i guess_

The night of the meeting was mild, the weather drier than it had been all week. Jack was dawdling at the front of the school, reading the posted news and volunteer requests, thinking about how to ask Aster about rescheduling their maybe-dinner-date.

“Hey.” 

He startled and whirled around to see Aster, still overdressed for the temperature in Jack’s opinion. Worn jeans, thick jacket zipped up high, a ball cap and his hands stuffed into his pockets. Probably wearing gloves. 

“Bastard.” 

“That's a term of endearment where I come from,” Aster said. He still looked a bit worn, extra scruff on his chin now, but was smiling at least.

“Is it?” Jack grinned and knocked his shoulder against Aster who stiffened, smile dropping away.

“We should go inside.” Huh.

“Sure.”

Inside was the usual set up with the usual dry lecture to look forward to. Mr. Punk was nothing if not predictable. They sat next to each other, same as always, but the gap between their seats felt wider. Was something wrong? Jack glanced in Aster’s direction.

“You okay?”

“I’m fine.”

Jack didn’t think he was, but Mr. Perfectly-timed-passive-aggression began with his backhanded thank yous to Community Teachers (which must have been a concept forced on him, Jack now figured) and kept him from saying anything more. Much discussion was then had about spring mud and dwindling school supplies. Jack tuned it out and watched Aster instead.

Aster sat hunched a little, staring at the front but not really focusing as far as he could tell. His hands were tucked into his sides. Typically, Aster sprawled in his seat, brushing up against Jack, loose and relaxed, but there was none of that now. Had he said something? Jack rewound the conversations they’d had lately in his head and came up with nothing.

The meeting went by in a blur and ended with admonishments to make sure the kids remembered to use indoor shoes along with strong hints for them to sign up to volunteer at the year-end picnic.

“So,” Jack shadowed Aster as they left the room, hoping for a chance to talk. “Do-”

“I have to get to back,” Aster cut him sort, staring at his feet.

“Oh. Right.” 

Aster hesitated, eyes flicking up to Jack’s. He opened his mouth and-

“Jack?” Hila strode up to them. “Do you have a moment?”

“Uh, yeah?” Jack looked back and forth between them. Aster nodded absently and turned away. Crap.

“Wonderful. I need to ask you about something Monty was telling me.” Hila continued, drawing Jack’s attention back to her despite the nagging concern that he’d fucked everything up somehow growing in the back of his mind.

“Um, sure. What do you need to know?”


End file.
